Hawke's Ascent
by Cptmeatman
Summary: A young Garrett Hawke encounters a werewolf in the forests of Lothering and his rise to power becomes forever changed.  An AU taken on the events of Dragon Age 2.
1. Prologue

*Author's Note: Hi all, I used to be active here on Fanfiction several years ago and am going to attempt to make a return starting with this story here. Hope you like it and feel free to say hi, chat, or give civil and respectful feedback. This is my own take on how the Dragon Age 2 story would have played out based on the early rejected concept of Hawke being a werewolf. I am using the classic werewolf design lore of transforming only under the light of the full moon and otherwise just exploring my own twisted versions of what the gods at Bioware gave us to play with. Thanks for reading.*

**9:22 Dragon: The Woods outside of the Village of Lothering**

It did not make any sense. Garrett Hawke had explored these woods for years and never before had he seen such a beast. He may have been a mere sixteen years old and the magical heritage flowing in his blood could protect him from anything he would encounter. Or so he thought.

The beast on his heals reminded him of the Mabari War Hounds owned by Mr. Danal The innkeeper had even promised him a puppy from the next litter after Garrett had helped him repair a hole in his roof at Dane's Refuge. It was however, not like any Mabari he had seen. Slate grey fur covered this monster the size of a legendary Golem. Running on all fours but standing like a man when it had first seen him, the beast let out a blood-curdling howl as it gave chase in the moonlight.

Leaping over a fallen tree, the young Hawke tucked and rolled through the dirt as he tossed a desperate fireball back at the creature. He heard a yelp of pain as a result but dared not stop running as the beast continued to crash through the brush, now even angrier than before.

Garrett did not know what would happen if he failed to escape this creature. He was running home, to his family's farm outside of Lothering. Too terrified to think about his mother and younger siblings should he lead this beast home, he ran on. Knowing that his father would protect them. Malcolm Hawke would protect his son, he always had since the first day Garrett had shown his aptitude for magic. From the suspicions of the Templars and the siren calls of demons from the Fade, Malcolm would protect him.

He spared a look back only to see stars as the side of his face struck an errant tree branch. His buckling knees drove him to the ground and the beast was on him, growling and snarling as it lunged with drool-coated teeth bared.

Holding his arms up to protect his face, he felt a flare of white-hot pain erupted from his forearm as the warm sensation of running blood took over with the feeling of fangs sinking into his flesh.

The young Hawke cried out, overtaken by panic as he flailed at the beast, his bursts of magical fire doing little to keep it at bay. All seemed lost for the young man when a ball of fire soared through the trees, striking the monster with the force of a ballista.

"Garrett! Get behind me!" Malcolm Hawke shouted, his grey and maroon robes haphazardly tossed on as he clutched his golden staff topped with a replica of Andraste's crucifix. The robes flapped in the wind like a cloak over his sleep trousers, hardly covering his bare chest. The Hawke patriarch has obviously been raised from his sleep by Garrett's cries.

Scurrying toward his father while nursing the bleeding arm, Garrett marveled at his father's mastery of magic as the apostate spun his staff, tossing bolts of arcane energy at the beast.

"Foul creature, you shall not harm my son!" Malcolm challenged as he called upon the raw force of his will to crush the beast as if a great stone fell upon it from the sky, killing it with a swift and sickening crack.

"Is it dead?" Garrett asked tentatively, clutching his wound as he sat on the ground covered in sweat and dirt

"Yes, you are safe my son," Malcolm leaned over to help him up but grew pale as he saw the wound. "Did the beast bite you, Garrett?"

"Its just a scratch, you don't need to worry," he brushed his father's concern aside, summoning an aura of healing light to stop the bleeding.

"Garrett these woods are dangerous, do you not recognize a werewolf when you see one?" Malcolm pressed on. "Such beasts bare a terrible curse passed on to their victims by even the smallest scratch. No magic can reverse the infection."

Gulping down his fear but visible shaking as Malcolm spoke, Garrett jumped forward and hugged his father tightly. "Dad, what will happen to me?" he asked, certainly scared but trusting that his father would do everything that he could.

"You will be fine my son, you will live out a normal life with a beautiful wife and many children of your own," Malcolm tried to be reassuring yet refusing to sugar coat the situation. He cared for his son but never coddled the boy to shield him from the harsh realities of life. "But once a month, under the full moon, the curse will rise from your blood and take hold. Transforming you into a werewolf until the first rays of dawn."

A man by Fereldan law but still a child at heart, Garrett grew paler still at these words. Malcolm placed a hand on his son's shoulder as they began the trek home. The father watching over his frightened son.

"I've studied werewolves at the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall, many people live with such a curse. The legendary hero Dane was even a werewolf," said Malcolm, attempting to reassure himself as much as Garrett.

"Father, Dane is a legend for killing werewolves, even if he was one. What will people do when they find out? Will they be afraid of me?" asked Garrett, his head hung in shame.

"They're not going to find out, a mage werewolf is the last thing the Templars will want roaming the Hinterlands. We will have to tell your mother though," Malcolm sighed, Leandra would be far more dangerous than any Templar when she learned that Garrett had been out alone after dark. "And Carver and Bethany will need to learn someday, when they are older, but you must never speak of this to anyone else," he took his son by the both shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. "If any villager asks about your scars you must tell them that they are from a normal wolf's bite. That it attacked while you and I were hunting. Can you do that for me, son?"

"Yes father," Garrett nodded.

"Good, we will get through this, son. You just wait and see."


	2. Chapter 1

*Author's Notes: Picking up at the beginning of the game, Hawke and company take on the blight with Malcolm at the lead. I kept much of the same dialogue from the scene with Flemeth the same because I love that scene so much and could not do it justice on my own. Enjoy*

**Eight years later, outside of the Village of Lothering after the Battle of Ostagar.**

The Blight had descended upon Lothering without warning. It had been several days since word came about the army of King Cailan's defeat at Ostagar but no one was prepared for the monstrous creatures that swarmed from the barren hills.

Walking like men but with faces and skin like desiccated corpses, their armor and weapons were made from spikes of hammered metal as they stalked the hills like predators on the hunt. These were the darkspawn, creatures born of the taint supposedly cast down upon the land by the Maker when the greedy Magisters of Tevinter defiled his Golden City. Since that day thousands of years ago, four blights had ravaged the land.

Apparently now the fifth had begun. Striking without mercy, burning everything in the path of the darkspawn horde.

And so the Hawke family fled, the magic of Malcolm Hawke and his children holding the darkspawn at bay as the now homeless Fereldans ran for their very lives.

"Burn!" Malcolm Hawke cried out as a dozen of the creatures fell to his fire as Garrett and his younger sister Bethany added their own magic to their father's inferno.

"Stand back mother!" Bethany's twin brother Carver warned their mother, Leandra. Not a shred of magic in him, Carver Hawke was a skilled warrior whose sword had already slain many darkspawn.

"We need to keep moving," Malcolm urged as more darkspawn arrived, hesitant to cross the wall of fire between them and the Hawkes. "Carver, watch your mother. Bethany, keep an eye on our rear. Garrett, with me," he ordered.

The five continued on, running in silence save for haggard breaths until Garrett's Mabari war hound, Tulcas, began to growl.

"He smells something," said Garrett with a scowl, his shaggy black hair and beard matted with sweat as he gripped his jewel topped staff.

"More darkspawn?" Carver asked as Leandra and Bethany approached.

"Looks like it," Garrett moved around a bend in the dirt path to see a group of a dozen darkspawn surrounding a man and woman attempting to hold the creatures off with their swords.

The man, a Templar by the armor he wore, fell to the ground as a single darkspawn slashed at him from behind only to be tackled to the ground by the woman and beaten to a bloody pulp before she relieved the creature of it's head with a splash of tainted blood.

"We need to help them," said Malcolm, his own staff at the ready.

"But father! He's a Templar!" Bethany cried out in protest. "He'd sooner see us locked in chains than thank us for saving his life."

"Perhaps," Malcolm acknowledged, "but that does not mean that we should let him die," he charged in, Garrett hot on his heals as the two cut down the remaining darkspawn with staves and magic alike.

Stopping as the last of the creatures fell, Garrett turned to the woman kneeling beside the Templar at the edge of a boulder. "Are you alright?" he asked as he offered a hand to the woman, her blazing red hair kept back in a ponytail.

"Yes… thank you," she nodded as the Templar stood shakily, the tendons in his shoulder blade clearly severed by how his arm hung limp at his side. In all likelihood he would never be able to wield a sword again, fortunate indeed for the three mages of the Hawke family.

"Stand back apostates!" the Templar warned, struggling just to stand as the rest of the family approached.

"Well the Maker has a sense of humor, darkspawn and now a Templar," Bethany noted sarcastically, no longer afraid of the wounded man.

"Wesley, please," the red-haired woman sighed, "They saved us."

"The spawn are clear in their intent but a mage is always unknown!" the Templar, Wesley, warned, glancing back over his should at the woman so as only to take his eyes off of Malcolm and his children for a split second at a time.

"You should be grateful, Templar," Malcolm replied, jabbing a finger at the Holy Sword of Andraste crest on Wesley's breastplate. "I have put my family at risk to help you."

"And we are grateful," the woman scowled at Wesley before turning back to Malcolm and Garrett. "I am Aveline Valen and this is my husband Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we're safe from the Horde."

"I don't think that will be so easy," Carver noted, his sword pointed in the direction of a massive, horned darkspawn standing on the barren hilltop ahead of them.

Letting out a savage roar, the monstrosity charged the Hawke family and their new companions with the force of a landslide.

"Scatter!" Malcolm shouted as he dove to the dirt, narrowly missing being trampled by the beast.

"Look out father!" Bethany shouted as she and Garrett both sent balls of searing fire at the creature.

"Stand back," Aveline warned her husband, her sword and shield at the ready as she and Carver both hacked into the ogre's thick hide only to be batted aside by a swing of it's massive hand.

"Maker give me strength!" Bethany prayed, spraying fire once more as the beast turned to attack her and Leandra, snapping Bethany's wooden staff like a twig and essentially removing her from the fight.

"Leave this to me," Malcolm stepped in front of his daughter to shield her, his golden staff glowing with power as he let loose a wave of magical force to taunt the beast. "I will draw it away! Garrett, I want you to take care of the family for me!"

"No father! You are not sacrificing yourself here!" Garrett stood his ground only to be repulsed by a glyph summoned by his father.

"Malcolm no!" Leandra cried as her husband loosed spell after spell of fire, ice, lightning, earth, and spirit at the ogre. Leaping over its clumsy attack to stab his staff into the massive darkspawn's eye, the beast tossed him aside as it roared in pain.

"Everyone stand back," Malcolm warned as he scrambled to his feet, calling down a rain of fiery explosions from the sky to barrage his foe. Suddenly from the inferno, a boulder came sailing through the air; barely missing Malcolm as he spun out of the way only to realize the it was sailing toward Aveline and Garrett.

"Get down!" Garrett shouted, reacting just in time as he tackled the warrior woman to the ground, covering her body with his own as the rock landed with a massive crash just a few yards behind them.

"I… thank you…" Aveline nodded as Garrett pulled himself off of her, taking note of her bright green eyes and pale, freckled skin in the process.

Hunkering down next to Bethany with his sword protecting them both, Carver led her over to where their mother stood with Wesley, still crying out to husband as he faced the Ogre. "Mother, we should go," Carver tried in vein to move her out of harm's way.

"Not a blighted chance," Leandra snapped, holding her hands over her heart as Malcolm once again attacked the darkspawn, racing across the barren dirt with his staff spinning. The Ogre reached out and time seemed to slow as its armored fist slammed into his side.

"Father!" the three Hawke children called out at once as Malcolm collapsed, falling to his knees with a cry of pain, several of his ribs obviously broken.

Pounding on itschest with savage glee, the Ogre grabbed up Malcolm in its fist, slamming him down onto the ground with sickening spurts of blood from a dozen shattered bones.

"Malcolm!" Leandra rushed past Carver and Garrett to her husband, ignoring the giant darkspawn as it roared in triumph, calling a swarm of its smaller companions to the scene with the scent of blood in the air.

"Foul beast," said Garrett Hawke under his breath, marching toward the gathering horde of tainted monsters as he gripped the blade of his staff with white-knuckled fury, drawing a thin trail of blood from his palm.

All became silent except for the siren whispers of demons from beyond the fade, calling out to him as his vision was blurred by red. He ignored their tempting calls, offering power and riches that meant nothing to Garrett Hawke now. He was fueled by a thirst for revenge.

Ribbons of blood and red energy enveloped the young man as he exerted his force of will onto the Ogre, tearing it limb from limb with a savage yell as his family watched in horror.

But his anger only grew. Clenching his fists and grinding his teeth, a half dozen darkspawn exploded from the inside out as their blood literally boiled.

This was the power of blood magic. Forbidden magic. It marked him as a Maleficar, to be killed on sight by the Templars of the Chantry. It was necessary for Garrett Hawke however, as the power to control his own blood had, with the help of his father, kept his lycanthrope curse at bay.

The advancing darkspawn fell in droves, blood running from their blasted out eyes until the last of them died in a mess of torn flesh and gore.

With a pounding in his ears as his skin felt as though it were on fire, Garrett forced himself to regain his composure. Pushing the rage and the demons away with haggard breaths.

"Garrett!" he heard voices calling out to him. Their names slowly coming back to him as his vision cleared. Bethany, Carver, mother…

"Maleficar!" another voice shouted, filled with anger and fear.

Garrett Hawke turned to see Wesley Valen. Barely able to stand, the Chantry's holy soldier held his sword in his off hand, a sneer of hatred plastered on his blood stained face.

"We have saved your life, Templar. My father died protecting you!" said Garrett as he allowed himself to collapse, too drained to stand. The fight that would ensue from the injured Templar and the worn out mage might have been comical in any other situation but it was not the time. Garrett merely watched as Aveline rushed to her husband, his face clouded over with bulging veins.

"Come on brother," said Carver as helped Garrett to his feet, "we need to keep moving."

The Hawke brothers made their way to where Bethany stood with their father's golden staff, a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder as she weeping over Malcolm Hawke's broken body.

"We have to go mother," Bethany pleaded, "father wouldn't want us to stay here because of him," her words however, fell on deaf ears as Leandra seemed determined to stay and die alongside her beloved husband.

"We're not out of this yet," Carver warned, supporting Garrett on his shoulder as another band of darkspawn emerged from the rocky landscape.

The group of travelers, battered, beaten, and demoralized, stood their ground against the darkspawn that cornered them against a cliff. Some offered prayers to the Maker while others held their family members close but the attack did not come. What came instead was a terrible roar from above as a legendary dragon swooped from the sky, tearing into the darkspawn with claws and fire. Grabbing a single Hurlock, the Dragon climbed high into the sky, dropping the creature to its death before diving back into the fray, scorching several more and taking out another three with a swipe of its tail.

Summoning all of his strength, Garrett stood and hobbled toward the beast. As it noticed him approaching, the dragon became consumed in a vortex of bright, golden light, shrinking to the size of human and coalescing into a shapely woman. Older, with flowing white hair, she wore crimson robes with armored gauntlets and greaves as she sauntered confidently toward them.

"Well, well… what have we here?" she asked, her voice deep and haggard yet belonging to someone with years of knowledge and experience. "Used to be we never got visitors this far into the wilds but now it seems they arrive in hordes," she smirked, approaching Garrett, sizing up the young mage.

"Impressive, where'd you learn to turn into a dragon?" he asked, standing firm to hide his apprehension.

"Maybe I am a dragon. If so, count yourself lucky that the smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite," she teased, turning away as she continued to speak. "If you wish to flee the darkspawn then you should know that you are going in the wrong direction."

"Wait," Bethany spoke up, gripping Malcolm's staff close. "You can't just leave us here!"

"Can I not? I spotted a most curious sight, a mighty Ogre vanquished. Who could perform such a feat?" she asked rhetorically, "But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe, for the moment. Is that not enough?"

"You could show me that trick of yours, that looks useful," Garrett grinned. Recognizing the woman's teasing wit.

She gave a hearty chuckle at Hawke's response before responding, "If only a clever tongue was all one needed," she said. "Tell me clever child, how do you intend to outrun the blight?"

"We need to get to Kirkwall, in the Free Marches," said Leandra, finally speaking up, as she mentioned her home city that she had fled with Malcolm years before.

"Kirkwall?" the dragon woman asked, actually surprised. "My, that is quite the voyage you plan. Your king will not miss you?"

"The king is dead, betrayed," said Carver, having been present with the army at Ostagar.

"I see. Hurtled into the chaos you fight and the world will shake before you," she mused, her tone becoming ominous. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide," she spoke to herself, scratching her chin by reflex before turning her attention back to Garrett. "It seems that fortune smiles upon us both today, I may be able to help you yet."

"Anything you could do would be appreciated," he replied, not about to turn away help from a woman who could turn into a dragon.

"Maybe we shouldn't trust her, we don't even know what she is," Bethany warned in a hushed tone.

"I know what she is," Aveline spoke up from where she knelt as Wesley's side, "the witch of the wilds."

"Some call me that," the woman shrugged, "Also Flemeth, Asha'Belenar, an old hag who talks to much," she chuckled again. "Does it matter? I offer you this, I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a witch of the wilds?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Hawke felt a pang of guilt at the sight of Aveline tended to Wesley as he heaved over a pain in his stomach. "Roast a few more darkspawn and I'll do anything you want," he replied, determined to see them all to safety, as his father would have wanted.

"Sadly my charity is at an end," said Flemeth. "There is a clan of Dalish Elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full," she placed a small, golden necklace in his hands. "Before I take you anywhere however, there is another matter," her gaze fell upon Aveline and Wesley.

"No! Leave him alone," Aveline warned, standing up to the dragon woman.

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already," said Flemeth with honest sympathy in her tone.

"You lie!"

"She's right Aveline," Wesley interrupted, "I can feel the corruption inside me."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke asked from where he stood between Aveline and Flemeth.

"From the darkspawn, all of that blood, I knew," Wesley grunted, "when it happened."

"And how much time before you…?" Aveline let the question trail off, her meaning obvious.

"Not long now, if I am any judge," said Flemeth. "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."

"And they all died at Ostagar," Carver piped up grimly.

"Not all of them, but the rest are now beyond your reach," Flemeth shrugged, smug the in fact that she knew more than she was letting on.

"Aveline, listen to me," said Wesley holding his side as his eyes grew dark with disease.

"You can't ask me this… I won't!" said Aveline, placing her hand on his shallow cheek.

"Please, the corruption is a slow death. I can't…"

Kneeling beside the young couple, seemingly the only one aware that there were likely still darkspawn about, Hawke placed a reassuring hand on Aveline's shoulder. "He's your husband Aveline, I can't decide his fate."

With a morbid nod and tears in her eyes, Aveline took Wesley's knife as he offered her the blade, holding her hands over his own as she forced the blade into his heart, ending his suffering with one last cry of pain. She tenderly reached out, closing his eyes as Flemeth approached.

"Without an end there can be no peace," said the witch. "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."


	3. Chapter 2

**The Gallows: Kirkwall**

Three days, the Hawke family along with Aveline, who was now as close to family as could be, had been corralled like cattle in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi for the past three days.

Garrett and Bethany had been on edge since their arrival, forced to stay hidden in the very heart of the Templars' power in the Free Marches. Corralled by the massive stones walls, wrought iron gates, and bronze statues of Tevinter slaves that were the Gallows, the brother and sister would stick to the shadows as Carver and Aveline kept watch for suspicious Templars and Leandra made herself a nuisance to the guards. Tulcas made himself busy leaving his mark on the corners of vendor stalls.

The guard they had spoken to had promised to summon Leandra's brother Gamlen to get them into the city after the Hawke family had defended him from a group of irate Fereldan deserters but still, it had been three days with no word.

Worse yet, as they sat watching the sun as it set beyond the cliffs of the city of chains, was the realization that tonight marked the beginning of the full moon.

Every month for the last eight years, Garrett's father had guided him through the use of blood magic to maintain his mind as well as his human form when the lycanthrope curse rose from his blood. Just in case, Malcolm had taught Bethany the basics of what was needed to perform the ritual but she had never before attempted the required spells during an actual transformation. Without Malcolm, none of them knew what would happen when the pale glow of the moon cast it's light upon Garrett, summoning his specialized blood magic alone and without another to guide him.

"So you speak truly then," said Aveline, leaning against a stone pillar, her sword and Wesley's Templar shield strapped to her back as she pondered what she had been told about the man who she traveled with.

"Every month, it's even worse than what happens to Bethany every month," said Carver, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed has he finished explaining the family secret.

"I heard that!" Bethany called out from under the blanket that they had strung up as a makeshift shelter beside the stone stairs. She had been there for the past few hours, doing what she could to help Garrett prepare for the night.

Ignoring his twin sister's retort, Carver unsheathed his sword and turned back to Aveline. "I made a promise to my father and brother years ago, that if Garrett turns I would do everything in my power to put him down before innocent people are put in danger. I'll probably need some help," he shrugged sheepishly. The idea of hurting his brother was distasteful to the young man but Garrett's curse had always been a worse problem for their family than three, now only two, mages among them.

"Nice to see that my brother has confidence in me," Garrett grimaced. Seated with his back to the wall, his bare arms wrapped protectively around his knees as he held out a hand to Bethany, blood running from a fresh cut on his palm. His eyes were held tightly shut as he ground his teeth, sweat poured from his brow as the occasional tremor wracked his tense body. No matter how many times he had gone through the partial transformation, it was still more painful than anything else he had ever experienced. With blood magic, he could maintain control of his mind well enough to stay put and not lash out at his family and friends but he could not prevent the cosmetic changes that wrapped him into a half man, half canine creature. His skin stretching over rabidly growing bones and surging blood pressure were anything but pleasant.

"Ignore Carver, that's how I've survived this long," said Bethany with a calming smile, dabbing a damp rag across her brother's face. Their mother had often said that she would make a wonderful nurse. "Just focus on my voice, let me take your pain," she took his bloody hand in her own, hesitating only for a moment. The use of blood magic still terrified her but the thought of her brother becoming a murderous monster in a fortress on an island filled with Templars was even less appealing.

"It's never been this strong before," said Garrett, gripping Bethany's hand harder than he ever would have in his right mind. His baby sister was precious to him, the very idea of harming her made him sick to his stomach, thought that could be attributed to the curse. With the sickening sound of bones breaking and reaasembling in his body, Garrett's eyes flew open, his pupils like slits with irises of a wild shade of fiery amber. Uttering an animalistic growl, he bared his teeth as they morphed into fangs before everyone's eyes.

"Oh, not good," said Carver as he pushed Leandra back, his and Aveline's swords ready to do what was necessary.

"Carver no!" Leandra cried, trying in vain to pull her son back. "You can't hurt him! He's your brother!"

"No," Garrett snapped, withdrawing his hand from Bethany's. His voice was deeper and cracking. "It's still me. I can… I can hold it back," he flung his head backwards, arching his spine as another nerve spasm nearly caused him to lose control. Shaking his head, the tips of Garrett's ears became pointed and longer.

"This isn't working," said Bethany with a grimace, reaching for her father's golden staff that she had made her own. With only a brief moment of hesitation, she steeled herself against the pain of what she was about to do and ran the flesh of her palm along the staff's bladed crucifix until a line of red blood welled up from the cut.

"Bethany what do you think you're doing?" asked Carver, kneeling down in the entrance of their lean-to with Aveline and Leandra peering over his shoulders in varying degrees of horror.

Ignoring Carver, Bethany shut her eyes and reached out into the Fade. _Help me. Help me save my brother, _she pleaded into the hazy mists of the dream realm as she left her mortal form behind.

Standing alone in an endless plane of nothingness, the only sounds around her were so utterly alien that she did her best to tune them out. Suddenly, gouts of flame appeared around her as the first demons came rushing to her calls. _We can help you. Let us help you! _They reached out their spindly arms to her, sliding forward with heaves of their slug-like forms.

_Stand aside demons, I seek the spirits of healing. Not your foul presence._ She waved the rage demons aside. Holding her father's staff tightly as she stood her ground.

_The spirits care not for you child._ A sultry voice called out from behind her. Spinning around, her staff ready for battle, Bethany laid eyes on what could only be a demon of desire. Purple skin with gnarled horns and a dancing violet fire for hair; the temptress was exactly what her father had described in her early lessons on magic as a child. Bethany stood guard against any move made by the monster as it paced, circling her with hunger in its beady, yellow eyes. _Foolish girl, arrogant girl, only someone like me can give you what it is that you desire._

_And just what is it that I want?_ asked Bethany, challenging the demon with her hands on her hips. Still scared, she was certain that her will would not slip, this demon would not take control of her. She would sooner die than become and abomination.

_What everyone desires, child. Power._ The demon licked it's lips, holding out a lithe hand with wicked claws for nails._ Blood magic is what you need to help your brother and blood magic I can give unto you._

_In exchange for what exactly? _Asked Bethany, glaring at the demon, ready for it to offer a one sided deal.

_Nothing now, child, _the demon placed the hand on Bethany's cheek. _Let me be there for you,_ it leaned in, lips gently brushing against her own as a blinding light overtook Bethany.

"Bethany!" she heard her mother call as the mental fog lifted, Garrett sat where he had been, his transformation partially stalled in a half in-between state. An aura of red energy flowed from her dripping blood like dancing, crimson lightning surrounding her brother as he cringed in pain.

"It's working," Garrett managed to grunt as his body parts slowly morphed back into their original, human state before everyone's eyes. As he became fully human again, at least in appearance, the eldest Hawke slumped over, his body completely drained of energy.

"I don't…" Bethany panted as the red aura of blood magic faded, "suppose that anyone has any lyrium," she flopped down onto the stone ground beside her brother, fumbling with a cloth to stop the flow of blood from her hands as her mother leaned down to tend to her children.

"And I thought that my family had issues," said Aveline, crossing her arms as she watched her companions from the sidelines.

"Hey," Garrett managed to turn his head to look at her with a wry grin, "You're part of the family now," he let out a weak laugh as Tulcas barked happily, jumping up to lick Aveline's face with his slobbery tongue.

"Wonderful…"

**The Next Morning**

"That Templar has been sniffing around all morning, the one with the blond hair," said Carver, observing the Gallows courtyard from his perch next to a golden lion stature dating back to the Orlesian occupation of Kirkwall following the last Exalted March. The sun was just cresting over the walls as lunchtime drew closer. Too bad none of them had eaten in almost two days.

"He suspects something," Aveline replied, glancing back at the lean-to covering up Garrett and Bethany as the slept, as they had since early the night before. "It makes sense with all of the noise we were making," she pointed out, trying not to show just how nervous she was. Until only a few weeks ago, mages were wicked people to be feared and corralled in her eyes. Only upon meeting Malcolm, Garrett, and Bethany did she realized that these were the images of mages created by the Chantry. Her father and then her husband had been wary of those with magic and Aveline's experiences with the arcane had left her with only more questions and confusion than ever.

"Maybe its time we went to have a chat with him," said Carver, checking his sword holstered on his back as he set off down the stairs. Garrett and Bethany's magic may have been a bother to him but he was not about to let them get snatched up after everything he had put up with.

Watching carefully as the younger man and the redhead wandered off, Templar Corporal Carson Tenny, his light armor covered by a cloak, made his way over to the Hawke family's tent. If the piece of junk that the Fereldan refugees were huddling under could even be called a tent.

The night before while on his rounds, Carson had been up on the battlements surveying the grounds of any mages looking to escape. Instead, a reddish glow coming from this very spot had caught his eye. He did not report what he had seen, not yet anyway. Catching a blood mage hiding among the refugees would be exactly what he needed for a promotion to Knight-Lieutenant. He was not ready to lie or cheat for the promotion but his family needed the money that would come from such a position. The opportunity simply could not be passed up.

Reaching out with his armored hand to pull back the patched cloth flap serving as a door, Carson turned sharply as he felt a knocking on the back plate of his armor.

"Good afternoon," said Carver as his fist flew out, connecting with Ser Carson's jaw, shattering it like a piece of Antivan glass art.

As the Templar's face hit the stone floor, blood pooled under his head from his vigorously bleeding lip. "Andraste's ass," Carson spat out a dislodged tooth as he propped himself up with a shaking arm. Rubbing his throbbing chin, he turned his gaze upward to the bare armed man.

"You lost Templar?" asked Carver, massaging his knuckles with a smug grin. "Not polite to just barge in on people without knocking."

"Ferelden scum," Carson hobbled to his feet, wiping his bloody lip with the back of his sleeve. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? Harboring a blood mage AND assaulting a Templar!"

"I can only guess," Carver lashed out, dropping Carson to the ground with the force of another punch. He then leaned down and pulled Carson up by the breastplate and looked him right in his brown eyes before punching him a third time, somewhat regretting using the same fist again as he shook out his sore fingers.

"What are we going to do with him?" asked Aveline as she appeared beside Carver, tapping at the Templar with her foot, making sure to check whether or not he was truly unconscious.

A sound caused the pair to turn toward the tent, noticing Garrett peering his head out and shielding his eyes against the sun with his arm. His attention drawn straight to the Templar lying on the ground, he propped himself up on his knee. "Do I want to know?" he asked, moving his gaze between the two warriors as Tulcas let out a series of happy barks when he caught sigh of his master up and about.

"He was snooping around," said Carver, scowling at his older brother. "Probably caught a whiff of what went on last night."

"So you beat him senseless right in front of tent?" asked Garrett, cocking an eyebrow as he stood, stretching out his back with a series of pops.

"Are you alright?" asked Aveline, "should you be standing after…"

"After mutating into a monster?" he finished for her, drawing a bit of a chuckle from Carver who shut up quickly when Aveline shot him a glare. "Where is mother?" Garrett asked, gathering his bearings.

"She's off bugging the guards about Uncle Gamlen again," Carver shrugged, "I'm starting to think that he's dead."

"I hope not, otherwise we're stuck here in the Gallows until they ship us back to Fereldan," said Garrett, turning to fully face his brother. "So tell me Carver, why did you punch out a Templar on our family's porch?"

Though Garrett's loose use of the term porch drew a smile from Aveline, Carver just scowled. "Sorry for protecting you and Bethany," he grumbled under his breath as Tulcas whimpered, ears drooping as Garrett grew angry.

"You just wanted to show off," Garrett reached out and grabbed a fistful of Carver's shirt with his bandaged hand. "What are we going to do with him now? Now he's sure that there's something fishy going on here and will be quick to report it when he wakes up. Unless you'd care to keep him tied up in our tent forever."

"I didn't…" Carver paused, casting his gaze to his feet, his cheeks burning red. No matter how much he hated it, Garrett was right as usual.

"You didn't think!" Garrett snapped, rising Bethany from the tent as well.

Crawling out with a yawn, she spotted the Templar and nearly let out a shriek as she covered her mouth in terror. "Carver! What did you do?" she shot him an angry glare.

"Oh right," Carver rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, "just assume it was me."

"It was," said Aveline dryly.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" asked Bethany, her eyes livid as her gaze darted around, looking for any Templar observers that might be spying on their plotting.

"I wipe his memory and Carver dumps him down by the rocks," said Garrett, "He caused this mess, he gets to fix it."

"Wait, where is mother?" Asked Bethany, more on edge that either of her brothers had ever seen.

"Right here dear," said Leandra, her graying ponytail swaying behind her as she approached. "That nice young guard has finally gotten word about us to Gamlen, he'll be here in just under an hour."

"About time," Carver grunted, hefting up the Templar's arm over and onto his shoulder. "Garrett, give me a hand with this oaf."

"Carver! What did you do?" asked Leandra, placing her hands on her hips, taking on her scolding mother face that was famous for guilting all three Hawke siblings into submission without fail.

Bethany and Aveline both chuckled as Carver just scowled, turning even redder as his brother put the Templar's free hanging arm over his own shoulder. "I'll wipe his memory when we get there," said Garrett, "Aveline, would you mind keeping watch? I wouldn't want any of his friends catching us lugging their compatriot into a dark ally."

"I agree," Aveline replied, "but let us make this quick, I'd hate to miss your Uncle Gamlen after we've spent the better part of a week waiting for him to clear his busy schedule."


	4. Chapter 3

**Late that night: The Gallows**

"Well Uncle Gamlen sure wasn't what we expected but at least Athenril was cute." said Carver with a sigh as he walked alongside Garrett, Bethany, and Aveline on their way from a meeting with the Elven smuggler who Gamlen had said would get them into the city. Provided they would work for her gang for one year upon entry, running deliveries past the guards or Templars. Gamlen of course would have gotten them out of the Gallows by swinging around the Amell Estate, if he still had the estate. Having lost the family fortune years ago to some disreputable miscreants to whom he owed a lot of money, Galmen now lived in a Lowtown shanty working a new get-rich-quick angle every week.

His contacts however had given the Hawke family a chance; Athenril had even been excited at the prospect of two former soldiers and a pair of apostates under her employ, provided that the risk was worth it.

She would get them into the city if they could pick up a delivery of refined Lyrium from a Tevinter supplier and deliver them back into her hands. The run was of course a test to see what they could handle just as much as it was something Athenril most likely did not want to have to do herself. If they succeeded she got a full shipment of top quality Lyrium. If they failed and got caught by the city guards or the Templars, nothing could be traced back to Athenril or her gang.

"Didn't know you were into Elves, Carver," said Bethany, teasingly taking on an overly fake seductive pose.

"Uncle Gamlen did what he could," said Garrett. "And she's way to much woman for you," he smirked, leading his group around a dark corner, where the street illuminating torches did not reach, only to stop short as a massive, wrought iron gate loomed before them, blocking their way to the docks.

"This could be a problem," said Aveline, rubbing her bare arms to warm herself in the frigid mist rising from the deep bay from which the Gallows rose.

"No need to worry," said Garrett with a grin, summoning a flame to life with a snap of his fingers just to show off and a little happy to be using magic not involving blood or demons for the first time since leaving Fereldan.

Flushing ever so slightly in the light of Hawke's fire, Aveline put her hands down, not wanting to be seen as a woman needing a man. "I appreciate the concern Hawke but you don't need to keep me warm. We have a job to do."

Blinking in surprise and chuckling as he realized what she meant, Garrett marched over to the gate and nodded at Bethany, "Give me a hand here," he knocked on the metal, getting a feeling for it. Standing back, he whirling his arms in a fiery arc with his sister joining in the dance until the pair sent their hands down in unison with a chopping motion, their flames cutting through the metal with the force of raw heat.

Kicking down the bars of the section they had cut loose with a grunt, Garrett ducked his head as he stepped through. "Sorry Aveline, wasn't trying to insinuate," he smiled, panting from the magical exertion as he peaked back through the hole at her. Aveline scowled, turning bright red with embarrassment as Bethany and Carver both followed their brother through the gate, Carver patting Aveline on the shoulder as they passed.

"Won't the Templars find this?" asked Aveline as she followed them, grimacing as her shield clanged loudly, banging on the iron bars as she stood a second too soon. Pulling her husband's shield around she nervously checked the Templar sigil for scratches or dings, overly protective of it.

"Does it matter?" asked Carver in response. "The Templars will think it was a mage trying to escape and as far as any of them know none of us are mages," he shrugged. "Plus they'll be looking outside of the Gallows by the time we're already back inside."

"Aren't you the criminal mastermind?" said Bethany with a sarcastic smirk at her twin brother. "We've only been at this for a few hours."

"Says the newest blood mage in the family," Carver scoffed, only to take a smack on the back of his head from his twin. Wincing, he decided it would be best to keep quiet as they crept toward the docks. Ducking behind barrels and into alleyways to avoid the occasional guard or gangster.

Stepping silently as they crossed a large path toward the warehouse Athenril had marked on Garrett's map, he knocked twice loudly then five times in rapid succession as instructed so that the Tevinter would know they were there for the pickup and not to arrest them.

After a brief pause, the tumbler in the door's lock clicked and the door slowly slid open with a terribly painful creak. Stepping inside ahead of his family, Garrett pushed the door the rest of the way open, the moonlight, thankfully no longer full, was barely able to illuminate much of anything in the room that lay beyond.

"We're here for the Lyrium, let's make this quick," said Garrett, his eyes shifting from shadow to shadow looking for movement. Listening for sounds, he could only hear Bethany's nervously hastened breathing beside him.

"Where is Athenril?" a deep and heavily accented voice rang out from the darkness. Slowly, a man emerged from the murk, his crimson, black, and tan robes kicking up dust as he moved. His skin was dark with a full beard of black hair covering the bottom half and a black and gold turban sitting atop his head.

"She is the one who sent us," said Aveline, her tone betraying her impatience.

"Do you have my gold then?" the man asked, suspiciously eyeing the group of refugees up and down, his gaze lingering for a few extra moments on Bethany and Aveline.

"Right here," said Carver to cut off the man's ogling as he held up a leather pouch, bouncing it in his hand so that it produced the sound of rattling coins.

"Very good," their contact grinned, "Just hand over that gold and I will get you your Lyrium," he started to approach them with a casual swagger. Carver leaned in with the sack of coins to hand them over but froze as Garrett threw his arm in the way.

"What the bloody hell?" asked Carver, stepping back in indignation.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Garrett asked the Tevinter. "We can all tell that my brother is an idiot but I'm not," he glared. "I want the Lyrium before you get near this gold."

"I'm insulted," the man raised his hands, feigning hurt.

"So am I," Hawke challenged. "The Lyrium, now."

"You should watch you tone," the Tevinter turned cold and serious, "Insolent errand boys like you don't last long with smart mouths like yours," he picked up an ornate staff of polished wood and silver leaf. With a quick spin of the staff he launched a burst of blue magical energy toward the Hawkes.

"Get down!" Garrett shouted, pulling Bethany to the floor with him as Carver and Aveline ducked to either side of the room. Standing quickly, Garrett pulled out his own staff of gnarled wood with a curved blade at the end. Spinning his ancient weapon, he retaliated with a massive fireball.

The Tevinter just laughed as he batted the flames aside, holding out his arms as a sound of gathering energy grew to a crescendo of lightning bolts fired at all four of them. Loud explosions that would probably wake half of the Templars in the Gallows rang out as barrel exploded into a rain of splintered shrapnel.

Miraculously, Garrett was unharmed where he knelt but quickly realized that he could not move. As the smoke cleared, he saw that Carver, Aveline, and himself were all surrounded by swirling vortices of magic that had deflected the razor sharp debris.

Tentatively, Bethany peaked out from behind Aveline, having used the other woman's shield as cover when she cast barriers on her allies to protect them from harm. Standing, she banished the warding auras with a wave of her hand, holding up her staff as she faced down the Magister.

"Clever move," he clapped slowly, mocking them, "Though your powers are nothing compared to a Magister of Tevinter," he snapped his fingers, a cue to the hired mercenaries hidden in shadows and side rooms to get ready for a fight.

"More targets just make it easier for you to get hit," Garrett grinned, nodding to his siblings. Bethany stepped forward, standing back to back with Garrett as Carver pulled Aveline back out of the way, knowing and dreading what was about to happen.

Spinning her staff and slamming the weighted end onto the ground, an explosion of flames shot toward the ceiling, coming back down as a rain of fiery blasts that demolished the ranks of the Tevinter guards. As his men fell in droves, screaming as they were burned alive, he did not notice as Garrett produced a decorative knife his father had given him as a child. Running forward through the flames, he leapt into the air and drove the blade into the other mage's throat, sending him to the ground coughing and gasping for air as he died.

Surveying the scene, Garrett watched Aveline and Carver kill the remaining mercenaries and put the still burning men out of their misery. "That could have gone better," he sighed, perking up as he spotted two small crates marked with the sigil of the Imperial House that Athenril had said was delivering the Lyrium. "On the other hand, we got the goods and get to keep the fee for some spending money," he draped and arm over Bethany's shoulders, proud of her quick thinking, "My baby sister deserves a new dress for that showing back there," he doted.

Blushing a deep red, Bethany squirmed out from under Garrett's arm, "Maybe we should use it for breakfast once the sun rises. I'm starving."

"Oh Maker please food," Carver gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he picked up the first crate. With Lyrium being as rare and expensive as it was when not controlled by the Chantry, the small amount here would fetch an easy hundred sovereigns from Templars feeding their addiction or apostates needing the magical potion for anything from a quick power boost to fuel arcane rituals.

"Do you always think of your stomach first?" asked Aveline as she picked up the other crate, casting an icy glare at Garrett before he could offer to take it for her. She may have been a widow but she would be damned before letting a man treat her as though she were weak.

"Only when I'm hungry," Carver said with an aloof shrug before kicking the door open and leaving the warehouse, eager to get back to Athenril without being seen. Aveline merely shook her head and followed him.

As Bethany moved to follow them she stopped as Garrett's hand clamped down on her shoulder. She silently chided herself for wearing a dress that did not cover her shoulders as his calloused hand felt like sandpaper on her skin.

"What?" she asked defensively, shaking him off.

"We need to talk," said Garrett, somber and serious as he crossed his arms.

"About?" Bethany asked, now rather annoyed that they were not running like hell from a room where they had just murdered a dozen people.

"The other night, when I was changing," he sighed, "I wasn't going to be able to hold onto being Human. I could tell that the beast was going to take over but then the curse lost hold and just fizzled out until I had it under control."

"So then what's the matter?" she asked, suddenly concerned, her heart racing under her chest.

"Bethany, I saw the bandages on your hand and Carver told me about you cutting yourself before blanking out for a moment," He stared right at her in a way he never had before.

"What do you want me to say? That I shouldn't have saved your life? You know that Carver really would have killed you if you turned," she began to storm away but stopped short as Garrett snapped at her.

"Exactly as he should!" he followed her and took her hand in his own. "You are my baby sister and I never want anything bad to happen to you because of me," he turned solemn, "Promise me that you will never, EVER, use blood magic again. Even if it means my life."

"But you use blood magic all of the time," she protested, stepping outside and peering around for anyone who might see them.

"Because father taught me how to use it responsibly," he replied, following her back toward the gate they had cut earlier. Looking around he could tell that the sun would rise soon as the walls and empty stands began to regain traces of color.

"You could teach me then," she shot back at him, ducking through the hole in the iron gate. Carver and Aveline had obviously already passed through.

"Not a chance," said Garrett, "Blood magic is extremely dangerous no matter how skilled a mage you are. I will not risk losing you to a demon, ever."

As he uttered the word demon with venom and spite on his lips, Bethany felt a pang in her heart. Both of guilt and fear as she remembered the purple demoness, the memory of it's lips on hers fresh in her mind.

"You don't have to worry, I'm stronger than you think," she turned away from him in a huff as she touched a pair of fingers to her lips. Walking swiftly back toward their tent in the darkness, a subtle flash of violet light consumed her eyes before fading slowly away, a distant, feminine laugh rising from the back on her mind.


End file.
